My name upon your lips
by candy-belle
Summary: Following a slip up during sex, can Phil and Clint work it through or is it the end for them? Story featuring Clint Barton and Phil Coulson with passing mention of sex, kissing, angst, pain, protective!Natasha,


**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters of Marvel Movies. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended and no money is being made.

**Notes:** This was supposed to be another one of the 30 day porn prompts but the muses went to wrong way and it turned out far less porny and far more , as always this is unbeta'd so any mistakes you find, please, please, please forgive (I mean it PLEASE!).

Clint loved the noises he was drawing out of Phil. He tightened his grip on the older man's hips, tilting his own to get a better angle of entry and continued to pound away at against Phil's backside. As Phil started to mutter under his breath, Clint couldn't stop the soppy grin spreading over his face. Bending down he pressed a kiss to the back of Phil's neck, asking breathlessly, "You like this, babe? Like me pounding you into the mattress?"

"Yes," breathed Phil his head falling forward as he arched his back, pressing back against Clint's groin. "Feels so good, so good…god yes...harder…do me harder..."

Clint grinned and brushed more kisses against Phil's shoulders, obliging the now panting man. He upped his pace until the room was filled with nothing but the sound of flesh slapping on flesh and Phil's breathy, unintelligible murmurings.

Except as he leant down again he finally made out what Phil was saying and when he did, his heart nearly broke at the sound. Phil was murmuring a litany under his breath, begging him to go faster, harder, and normally it would be a turn on to Clint to hear those filthy words coming out of Phil's mouth. And maybe if Phil had been talking about him it would have been a turned on. But he wasn't. Phil was murmuring another man's name, he was murmuring Steve's name.

Clint pulled back his hips freezing mid thrust as he grunted, "What the f…you're thinking about him? Now?"

"What?" exclaimed Phil twisting as much as he could to look over his shoulders, "Clint? Darling what's wrong?" his eyes widened in shock at the look on Clint's face.

Clint simply shook his head and stumbled backwards, having to grab hold of the bedstead to stop himself falling over. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and blinked several times trying to clear the film of angry tears that was suddenly blurring his eyesight. Fighting hard not to punch something, he hissed, "You were saying his name! You were fantasising about…Jesus, Phil…" he took a few steps back, his legs decidedly shaky given what they had been doing for the last half hour.

"Clint wait!" called Phil twisting on the bed grimacing when his freshly used behind hit the crumpled covers. "Clint please," he begged reaching out for his retreating lover, "I'm sorry. I didn't know I was saying it out loud I…"

"Oh oh right," barked Clint bitterly, "So thinking it would have been fine? Thinking about another man while I was fucking you would be fine?" he shook his head and bending down he groped blindly for his jeans. Pulling them on without much thought to what he was doing next, he glanced at the bed and demanded angrily, "How often have you done that? Thought about him while you're with me?"

Phil stared at him blankly then pushing himself off the bed he walked towards Clint replying slowly, "Never," he ignored Clint's snort of disbelief and ploughed on, "Clint please believe me I don't know why I was think about him. Darling, please, you have believe me I just…I…" he ran a hand over his face and taking a deep breath he confessed, "I was with him this morning and I guess I was just thinking about what …"

"Do I mean that little to you?" asked Clint flatly, his voice muffled by his t-shirt as he yanked it over his head.

"No," replied Phil honestly, "Clint no. You mean the world to me, you know that…"

"Do I?!" barked Clint angrily, laughing bitterly, "Because you know last time I looked, meaning something to someone meant they say your name in bed when you fuck them and not someone else's!"

Phil stared blankly at him then bowing his head, he corrected, "I've never thought what we did as just fucking. It's so much more than that." He reached out, catching Clint's hand as it rose to rake through the messed up blonde hair. "I know you're angry right now and you have every right to be but please believe me when I say I don't want anyone but you. I never have and…and I never will."

Clint glared at him. Then without speaking he yanked his hand back, turned on his heel and stormed from the bedroom, slamming the door behind him as he went. Watching the door close Phil finally allowed his emotions to show. Sinking down on the edge of the bed, he bowed his head trying very hard not to hate himself.

x

Phil didn't see Clint for the next few days. Once he'd pulled himself together he had left the Tower and made his way back to the helicarrier. He tried to reason that he wasn't running away but he was. He knew he was. He couldn't bear to face Clint and he was certain he didn't want to interact with Steve in case Clint got the wrong idea and the situation became even worse. He tried once to phone him but the call went straight to voicemail so he didn't try again. It hurt slightly that he didn't hear from Clint either. Even during their darkest days Clint had always reported in, even if it had just been to annoy the hell out of him. But to hear nothing was new and it freaked Phil out.

But more importantly and more worryingly for Phil he didn't get any report of Barton causing havoc on base or on the helicarrier. The lack of disturbance worried him more than anything. Clint was rarely inactive and for there to be no grumbles from Hill or Sitwell or any of the junior agents gnawed at his conscious. It was made even worse when the door to his office opened and Natasha strode in. She didn't stop until she rounded the end of his desk and spun his chair round. Trapping Phil between the back of the chair and her arms, she leant in until they were eye to eye and, in a very soft, almost seductive voice, she ordered, "Fix. This."

It was to Phil's credit he didn't flinch. Weaker men had been known to burst into tears when on the receiving end of such an intense order from the infamous Black Window. Instead he just licked his lips and taking a moment to gather his thoughts he finally asked, "Where is he?"

Natasha didn't reply but the quirk of her eyebrow told Phil all he needed – Clint was in hiding. Sighing under his breath he flicked Natasha a look and offered, "I never meant to hurt him. Ever. I wish I could take it back, wish I could make everything…"

"Talk. To. Him." ordered Natasha leaning closer, "I mean it. Sort this out."

"How?" asked Phil. He'd spent so long trying to work out the best way to make things right, to make Clint understand that it had meant nothing that he still loved him, still wanted him but he had no idea how to put those feelings into words.

"Be honest with him," snapped Natasha, "Tell him the truth no matter what it costs you. You broke his trust. You made him feel worthless." She paused then leaning in closer she hissed, "I've hurt people for less than that."

Phil held her gaze, fighting hard not to blanch at the deadly look being levelled at him. He thought for a moment then giving a single nod, he replied flatly, "I'll come to the Tower tonight."

Natasha studied him a moment then, seemingly finding what she was looking, she straightened up and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. Giving him a rare true smile, she huffed fondly, "You're as bad as each other."

Phil returned the smile with one of his own – although it was weaker and not as bright as normal – before nodding and asking hesitantly, "Has he eaten?"

Natasha didn't reply at first but then she shook her head confessing, "Not that I've seen." She paused then obviously weighing up what she was about to say she added, "Fix this. I don't like seeing him, or you, this broken. And if you don't - I will."

And with her threat hanging between them she turned and calmly sauntered out of his office leaving Phil alone with his thoughts once more.

"What are you doing?"

Clint almost smiled at the way Phil didn't jump at his call, but he did notice the slight tensing of Phil's shoulders. For a brief moment he was glad he made the seasoned agent tense but then he saw Phil's expression and his fleeting enjoyment faded. Phil looked awful. His hair looked greyer than before and there were lines around his eyes that hadn't been there a few days before. Phil hadn't looked up and it gave Clint a chance to take in the strange scene before him. He stared at the storage boxes littering the lounge floor. Some were already sealed up and others, like the the ones currently beside Phil, were obviously well on their way to be filled as well.

"You're moving out?" asked Clint his voice shaking more than he liked. The idea of Phil leaving was more terrifying than he cared to admit.

"No," replied Phil carefully. He finished wrapping the bubble wrap around the figurine in his hands before he looked up. Clint frowned as Phil sighed and placed the wrapped figure into the brown box.

"I'm packing up my collection," explained Phil his voice low and measured, "I didn't want to have anything in the apartment that made you uneasy or left you second guessing my feelings."

"But it's taken you years to collect all this," replied Clint his frown deepened. He edged closer adding, "Some of this stuff is irreplaceable." He paused then looking away he took a deep breath before confessing, "I don't you to get rid of your collection. I just…I…" he gave an angry little snarl snapping, "Damn it, I'm no good with words." He balled his fists and let his head fall back. Staring up at the ceiling he took several deep breath before forcing himself to ask, "If you had to choose who would it be?"

Phil didn't answer. He just stared up at Clint, his glasses perched precariously on the end of his nose

Clint righted his head and asked gruffly, "If you had to choose between Hawkeye or Captain American – who would you choose?"

Phil still didn't reply. Instead he got to his feet and brushing off his knees he started to close the gap between them. Against his better judgement Clint let Phil get closer before snapping, "Answer me. Who would you choose?"

"Neither," replied Phil softly.

Clint tried to hold back the gasp but failed. Not bothering to hide the look of hurt pride that flashed across his face, he was about to ream Phil out when the older man continued, "I wouldn't choose either of them because its not them I want. It never was." He hesitated then, bowing his head and offering Clint a painfully coy look, he explained, "I'd choose Clint Barton. Every single time, over anyone else in the world. It was Clint Barton who took care of me in Cairo, who stopped the bleeding until the evac team got to us. It was Clint Barton who drove me crazy with his nerf attacks around the helicarrier. It was Clint Barton who made me laugh and bought me stupid gifts." He paused and took a deep breath he finally looked up and looking Clint directly in the eye he confessed finally, "It's you I love and want to be with."

Clint stared at him, torn between hugging the older man and punching him in the face. In the end he did nothing. He just stood there, the all-seeing eyes roaming over Phil's face searching for any hint of deception in Phil's features. He didn't find any. But that didn't reassure him. He'd seen Phil face down rooms of armed men with less than a single look. He couldn't trust his eyes. But he could trust his heart, couldn't he? Not really wanting to hear the answer he asked gruffly, "Then why say his name during sex?"

"I don't know," confessed Phil with a bitter laugh that sounded painfully honest, "I swear I have no idea. I don't even have feeling for Steve; he's a nice guy but not my type. Clint, I don't why I said his name. I don't know why I was thinking of him when I had everything I'd ever wanted. I'm sorry I did. I'm sorry hurt you and I am so sorry I broke your trust. I know you must hate me…"

"I don't hate you," interrupted Clint. He bit the edge of his lip, his eyes flicking all over the room before landing on the boxes. "I don't, I just...right now I…" he licked his lips then shook his head huffing, "Shit Phil! I don't know what to do."

"Give me another chance?" asked Phil quietly.

Clint cocked his head as if thinking about it. Then without speaking he moved forward brushing past Phil. It wasn't a shoulder barge as such but it was closer enough that Phil had to take a step back to avoid being knocked over. Not looking at the other man, Clint walked towards the furthest box and crouched down. Reading the inventory list he gave a wicked little cackle and called, "Seriously you boxed up your comics?"

"I told you," replied Phil sound more desperate than Clint had ever heard him, even in the middle of the worse assignment, "I didn't want to give you any reason to doubt me. I…"

"Phil," called Clint fondly, "Shut up and help me unpack this stuff."

Phil didn't move, he didn't react.

Clint glanced over his shoulder and seeing the look on Phil's face, he called, "Boss?"

"You're…you're giving me a second chance?" stammered Phil.

Clint gave him a wry smile as he broke the seal on the box. Reaching in, he grabbed a handful of comics and carried them over to the currently bare shelves and put them back into place before answering, "A wise man once told me that everyone deserve a second chance." He heard Phil's gasp knowing the older man was remember their first meeting, remembering the circumstances surrounding them when Phil had said those words to a much younger, less settled Barton. He turned and locking his eyes with Phil, he chuckled wryly, "It'd be pretty shit of me not to do the same for you."

For a moment neither man moved, then suddenly, Clint found himself being kissed. He found familiar hands cupping his face and lips pressing against his in the softest, most desperate kiss he had ever had. Almost without thinking his hands found their way to their normal position on Phil's hips.

As the kiss continued Phil made a little whimper, and said something that had Clint smiling into the kiss. Pulling back Clint grinned at him and breathed, "Say that again."

Phil blinked at him in confusion then releasing what he'd said, he smiled shyly before leaning back in to pressed softer, secondary kisses to Clint's mouth and jaw, interspersing the kisses with soft breathy sighs of Clint's name. As they continued to re-connect and rebuild their relationship, Clint felt the tight band around his heart lift and for the first time in days he finally felt truly at ease.

Fin x


End file.
